


Transcending Time

by Chimchimery



Series: Kako no seikatsu ga karamia~tsu [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 16:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3616725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chimchimery/pseuds/Chimchimery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto has always felt like someone was watching over him, helping him with his daily things. And there was always this name from so long ago, haunting his memories. Haruo. Haruo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transcending Time

Yūrei - A reikon that has been killed in a sudden or violent manner. Their soul cannot reach its ancestors due to never having a proper burial. They proceed to haunt those living until a proper ritual is formed for them or fixing the emotional conflict that still ties them to Earth.

Although yūrei names all ghosts, they are branched off into categories that classify their reason for returning to Earth.

This story could be about an Onryō, who seeks vengeance for a wrong done in their lifetime, or even a Zashiki-warashi, but this story is not this.

This story is a unique one in itself. A forbidden fruit amongst a battle. And then, 830 years later, this story comes back into play once again.

Yes, this story is taboo, never to be spoken of to others. That’s why, when the two died, no one understood the pain.

A love story between a Funayūrei and a Samurai ghost. Who will one day meet again, but never in the way they thought would be possible.

A story passed down from generation to generation in hushed reverence, about the love of a fisher named Haruo and a warrior named Mamoru, destined to be together, perhaps not at the time when they thought they would, but the two would be together.

At least, that’s what they all said…to Makoto.

_____________________________________________________________________________

“Ohayō.” He smiles softly to his twin siblings as they barrel down the hallway before him. The two look back quickly to flash a quick smile, and a short, “Good morning!” back to him before racing each other to the kitchen table.

His father is reading the newspaper as his mother prepares breakfast when he walks by. The proud parents smile to their eldest son as he grabs his bento and a quick bowl of rice before kissing his mother on the cheek softly.

“Where are you off to so early today, Makoto?” His father folds up his newspaper, and quickly snuffs down a food fight between the twins before it has even started. He smiles sadly, looking down at his rice.

“I’m going to have breakfast with Nanase-sensei before she’s taken back to her children.” His mother nods before pressing another covered bowl of rice into his arms, eyes somber. “At least show her that we are all here for her also, dear.” His mother softly murmurs, looking over at her children once more.

“Of course mother.” He smiles once more before turning to his siblings, placing gentle kisses on his sister’s head, laughing when his brother grumbles at his messed up hair when he takes his hand off of his head.

“Onii-chan, what was your imaginary friend’s name again?” Ren asks him as he bends back up to nod at his father. The question takes him by surprise and it takes a moment before he fully answers, racking his brain to try and recall that beloved name.

“I think I named him Haru, if I remember correctly…” Noticing the look on his siblings faces, he tilts his head to the side. “Why?”

Ran shoves a piece of mackerel in her mouth before answering for the two of them. “We were just wondering…we were talking about how much fun we used to have with Haru-chan.”

Stop calling me Haru-chan already…

He jerks upright, a slight shiver running down his spine as the ghostly whisper slowly fades into nothing. Ignoring the looks from his parents, he smiles once more at his siblings before making his way to the front door, taking precautions to not spill the rice.

“I’m sure he misses you too,” he calls down the hall as he slips his shoes on, the chill still never leaving his back. He looks down when grabbing his book bag to see that goose bumps line his arms, forcing his hair to stand up on the back of his neck.

When he bends back up he comes eye to eye with his mother, scaring him slightly. His mother smiles to his apologetically before kissing his cheek softly. But this day, the kiss lingers, almost like a second set of lips makes its way across his face to end on his lips.

He smiles, brushing off the feeling with a wink to his siblings, a small promise that Haru-chan will visit tonight for the two of them, before starting to make his way to the Nanase household.

_____________________________________________________________________________

“Ohayō.” The Samurai named Mamoru bows to him once again this week. Haruo nods silently in greeting and turns back to the fish he was washing.

He can’t understand why the Samurai warrior keeps visiting his store, he hasn’t done anything to anger the emperor, and his fish is still good quality. What confuses him even more is that the warrior never buys anything. Mamoru normally just sits on a bucket that Haruo left in a dark corner, and stares at him or inspects the haul of fish Haruo caught that day.

But today, he almost chops off his hand when Mamoru softly asks, “When do you get up to get your fish every day Haruo?”

His breath stops when his name is almost purred from the warrior, and he dully lets his knife drop, fish forgotten.

When the two men meet eyes, they are at a standstill. Silently watching each other, and Haruo is struck with how gentle Mamoru’s eyes are, the green so vibrant he almost wants to get to the gaze. He wants to be held in that gentle embrace resonating throughout his entire being.

And it’s then that he realizes, he is in love with this Samurai. And he doesn’t know how he will survive this war raging in his heart.

________________________________________________________________________________

“Itadakimasu.” He smiles gently when the older woman picks up her chopsticks in shaking hands, tired eyes crinkling when she takes in what he made her. Mackerel. Her favorite.

But it really wasn’t her favorite; it was her late grandson’s. Everyday when Makoto  ca me over she’d be lighting a candle, her weathered lips moving silently in prayer that her beloved grandson might have a better life than the short one he endured here.

Her grandson, a boy who would be as old as him now, drowned along the banks by her house the summer that he moved here. The story itself is a chilling one. The nightmare of a tale started one August night, eight years ago, apparently they still haven’t found his body

Her grandson, Haruka, had disobeyed his parents one chilly August night, by slipping out of his bedroom window to take a swim in the calm ocean. Of course fate always had something different planned and soon the water churned like a monster and swallowed poor Haruka whole before he was even able to lift an arm to move.

His body was washed ashore that morning. The boy wore a mask of peace that puzzled the policemen, his small lungs filled with water while he looks as if he was in the best dream of his life, even though he suffered one of the worst deaths a person could suffer through.

Makoto looks down at his rice, stomach churning even though he knows he needs to eat. Whenever he thinks of Haruka’s death, the feeling of guilt and a deep, dark sense of regret eats away at him. He wanted to know Haruka, wanted to become friends with him.

Wanted to swim and play and frolic around like normal children were supposed to do…

And yet, he still can’t shake off that regret when he’s passed through the guilt. And today, Haru-chan keeps popping  up in his mind.

Breathing hard, he sets down his bowl with a loud crash that rattles the table and shocks the elder before him. His muffled ears don’t register the worried questions from the woman and his blurred eyes can’t see the mess he created, his pounding head and creeping nausea the only thing on his mind.

Crying out, Makoto clutches his head when a sharp pain jabs the side of his head.

Their kiss was passionate, desperate. Wet, sloppy noises and harsh pants echo in the bare room around them, their hands grasping at each other in a desperate attempt to force the pain to go away, the setting sky peeking through the windows of Mamoru’s simple room.

Mamoru breaks the kiss suddenly, his bare chest heaving noticeably in the fading light. Haruo frowns and moves to start again, but Mamoru backs away even farther, tears running down his face.

“Haruo…” his name is spoken in a broken whisper. A gentle hand brushes against the side of his face, and to his horror, tears were running down his face as well.

He breathes out in a huff, waiting until he knows his voice will be steady before he responds. “Why did we have to be born now?”

Mamoru blinks, his glorious eyes dancing in confusion and still bright from his tears. He sniffles and his voice is still thick with tears when he speaks. “What do you mean, my love?”

He looks to the ceiling, trying to stop the tears from coming. “Why did we have to be born to this cruel world…why did we have to be born where we hide our relationship? I want to kiss you so bad out in the open for all eyes to see, but I can’t because then we would be killed…”

Mamoru looks down, eyes darting to his armor that sits in the corner. Eyes flashing suddenly, he wrenches a hand across his armor, the metal making a harsh clanking sound against the hushed quiet of the room.

Haruo gently places his hand on Mamoru’s trembling one. His choked sobs force Haruo to bend his head down; resting it gently on Mamoru’s shaking shoulder. A whimper escapes his lips as he cries out, “Haruo! I can’t take it anymore!”

With a hard kick, Mamoru’s helmet flies across his room, ivory scales chipping and falling off as it slams against the wall. With a wail, he slides off his bed, head falling to rest between his legs, his sobs loud now.

Haruo hugs him from behind, his tears silent as he presses a shaky kiss to his neck.

“I swear it Haruo,” Mamoru’s voice is shaky, but his resolve is firm. He slowly raises his head, beautiful gaze heated as he turns his head, capturing Haruo’s face in his hands. He gently strokes his cheeks, eyes squeezing shut as he swears to his love.

“I swear Haruo… that one day you and I will be together, and I will leave the army and we can run away together.”

Haruo gasps, grasping his arms desperately. “Mamoru, y-you can’t! They’ll kill you! And then...we’ll never be together...but...if you think you can escape…”

Haruo trails off, biting his lip in worry. Mamoru stares at him for a little bit, but never responds to his outcry. Instead, as if ceasing the war in his mind, Mamoru slams his lips to his, pushing him harshly back against his rough bed, both sets of hands tearing and frantically pulling at each other, their tears salting their kiss and love.

“Makoto!” The elder woman shouts, slapping him across the face. Although the hit wasn’t hard, he still reels back, falling to the ground as he pants, eyes wide.

Even though he should be hurt from hitting the tile, his elbows and arms were fine, and he shivers, feeling as if a gentle, ghostly hand was caressing his elbows, protecting him from harm.

His mind still racing from that…whatever you could call it…he blinks and slowly stands, gathering his mess and her dishes before going to clean them, an apology murmuring from his shaking lips. He can still feel that kiss that heated something inside of him.

What was…that?

Before he can leave, Nanase-sensei stops him in the doorway, eyes pained and knowing, and in that moment, his eyes widen and suddenly he sees her in a different light, and she is younger, so much younger, and her hair is the same color as Haruo’s and her obi is scarce in layers and simple, unlike the complex Jūnihitoe, the markings of a merchant, lowlier than him as a starting soldier, and he remembers-

He gasps, pressing a hand to his head. Nanase-sensei is back to herself and she gently massages his hand.

“Everyone has their own guardian angel Makoto…” She whispers softly, eyes urgent.

He swallows hard, nodding as his world spins around him.

“You just have to find yours…”

_____________________________________________________________________________

He hears a commotion and frowns, wiping his bloody hands on a dirtied rag as he shoos his sister back in their hut, snapping a command to continue sorting the fish as he tentatively pokes his head out of the door.

His eyes go wide as he takes in the fight in the middle of the street, and armored warriors run past his store in their frantic attempt to stop the fight.

“Nanshoku!” A cry rose up from the crowd, and his blood ran cold, his bloody cloth fluttering to the ground, knife making a dull clank as it follows the cloth, dust falling up slowly from the dry ground. Swallowing hard, he stumbles out of his doorway and into the street, praying beneath his breath.

A hoarse cry echoes through the street and he falls to his knees, pressing his hands to his ears.

He knows that cry.

“Mamoru…” He whispers, forcing the tears back. The warriors are shouting, warning that they will resort to violence to break them apart, and he hears the screech of metal as a few warriors draw their swords.

A gentle hand touches his shoulder, and he jerks, spinning around to stare his sister in the face with wide eyes, breathing erratic.

Her gaze softens and she gently strokes his cheek as she stares into his eyes.

“That is your love, right dear brother?” She softly speaks amidst the chaos around them. He whimpers quietly, nodding ever so slightly. Her eyes harden as she looks up to the parting crowd and stands up, helping him up as well.

Mamoru is being held up by two fellow warriors, his head lolling to the side as his feet are dragged across the dirt road, his blood dripping on the ground. His face is beaten to a bloody pulp and blood dribbles down his chin, his parted lips soaked in blood from his lungs.

Haruo tightens his hold on his sister’s sleeve, and she gently shakes him off to stand in front of the three warriors.

“I shall take him in.” She proclaims, standing her ground. A couple of warriors laugh and shout crude things to her, and he clenches his jaw before stepping forwards, laying a hand on her shoulder as he looks at the warriors. “What are you doing Asami?”

“Brother dear, I would like to take this wounded warrior into our house, as a good deed to our country and in honor of our father.” Her voice is firm, and he’s never been more proud of his sharp sister.

He tilts his head towards the warriors. “What happened to him?”

“A couple of scum attacked him, claiming that our good guy here was gay.” The warrior to his left shook his head. “I’ve known Mamoru here for years and I’ve never assumed that he was…the women fling themselves to him, and he’s had many a girl. Why he has one at home now, doesn’t he?”

The other warrior closes his mouth as he catches Haruo’s glare and shakily looks at him before looking at his companion. “I’m not sure…but we should get Mamoru into their house don’t you think?”

Haruo nods and quickly takes the spot of the talkative warrior, giving his apron to his sister so Mamoru’s blood doesn’t stain her robes or obi. The two of them bid the warriors farewell with a promise to give them updates on his progress before trudging back home.

Mamoru moans softly in their arms, one bruised eye slowly opening, his dazzling green eye dulled by the pain those bastards had inflicted on his gentle love.

“Haruo?” He whispers, blood splattering across Haruo’s face as he breathes out, crying out softly when his foot hits a rock.

“You’ll be safe soon Mamoru…” Haruo promises, kissing his bloodied forehead.

_____________________________________________________________________________

He places his head in his hands, ghostly hands gently massage his tense shoulders and he can’t fight his tired conscience to tell him that it was just a breeze and not a ghost.

“We’re moving into folklore of the 10th, 11th, and 12th centuries.” His teacher tells the class, and his head shoots up, the pressure on his shoulders tightening.

“I’d like to start off with an old story that is popular for historians studying homosexuality.” He swallows, his attention full on the teacher who was suddenly very serious.

“The tale goes that a Samurai warrior and a common fisherman fell in love in the middle of the Genpai War. The warrior, who name was Mamoru, don’t ask what his last name was, it’s been lost to history. Anyways, Mamoru was of the Taira clan, who, as you know, fell, resulting in the end of the five year war.

“The fisherman, Haruo, was Mamoru’s lover, and their relationship was taboo, so they kept it secret, until one day, the relationship was found out and Mamoru was beaten. After their taboo relationship was almost discovered, Mamoru and Haruo decided that they would run away. A lot like Romeo and Juliet in a sense I guess.

“They had made plans, but then, one final scare happened for the Taira clan, and Mamoru was called into battle. He was killed right off because they had greatly underestimated the power of the Minamoto clan. All the warriors were buried and the place where the war was ended is over Mamoru’s grave. There is a marker there and we will be going there at the end of the week.

“Haruo, on the other hand, never learned of Mamoru’s death, and was killed in a fishing accident a month before the war ended. He and his companions were never found, but historians have recently discovered ruins in the sea that they believe could be his.

“Which brings us into our next subject. Reincarnation and ghosts. Real or not?”

His mouth moves before he can stop himself. “Real.”

The whole class turns to look at him in shock and confusion. The teacher stares at him in a strange light, slowly removing his red glasses. “Why do you say that Makoto?”

Makoto stands up jerkily, and he speaks as if he can’t control himself. Speak for me Makoto…“Because…because…Haruo is a Funayūrei and he’s here…with me.”

The teacher nods, not looking surprised when Makoto says that. Scrolling through his computer, he meets Makoto’s eyes as he plugs it into the projector. “And why is Haruo here with you Makoto?”

A painting of Mamoru appears on the screen and he walks in a daze up to the screen, stumbling past some of his classmates on his way up. Reaching a shaky hand up to the screen, he gently brushes his hand across Mamoru’s digital cheek, and he swallows hard, glancing at the window to stare at his own reflection.

A perfect match.

Eight centuries later…

The class gasps as he turns around and collapses against the board, staring hard at the teacher. “He’s here with me because I’m his love…Tsugaru Mamoru…”

_____________________________________________________________________________

“I’ve been called to the front lines.” Mamoru hisses as Haruo sets his ribs once more. Haruo studies the warrior in silence.

Mamoru is different than all the rest, and he guesses that he is too. Neither one of them has the blackened teeth that all the nobles and some merchants sport, nor do they have mustaches or goatees.

Haruo told Mamoru when they first started seeing each other that he looked ridiculous with the hair so the next time they saw each other, Mamoru surprised him with his shaved face.

Haruo himself never went with the crowd for this fad. Mamoru said he was glad that Haruo kept his face smooth because he seemed like a little woman then.

Of course he’d blush and kick his armor lightly before kissing him.

And of course that would lead to other things.

He gently runs a hand down Mamoru’s bare chest, tracing the scars that mar his rippling abs. Sweat from his pain trickles down his heaving chest, and bruises color his sun-kissed skin. Leaning forwards, he kisses each scar, ignoring the shivers that run through Mamoru as he moves lower and lower before slowly moving back up to place a chaste kiss against his trembling lips.

“Promise me you’ll come back.” He whispers, slowly starting to shrug off his own robes. Mamoru places a gentle hand against his cheek, his other hand resting softly on the nape of his neck.

“You’re smart…thoughtful…gentle…strong…” He places a kiss to his neck after every word, allowing Mamoru to take over. His calloused hands gently untie the sash around his waist, sliding one cool hand down his back.

He shivers and lets his head fall back, moaning softly.

“I promise…I promise with my life Haruo.” Mamoru whispers, gently laying him back against the bed. “And if I die, I swear I will protect you until you join me once more.”

“I swear the same to you my love…” He breathes against Mamoru’s shoulder, wrapping his legs around his waist.

“One last time before we part.”

_____________________________________________________________________________

Makoto stares at the grave and information marker, shivering in his light jacket, ignoring the way the brisk wind chills his tear covered face.

Numbly he runs a hand over his grave marker, not missing the way Haruo’s ghostly hands run across his shaking shoulders.

It’s alright my love… The voice…the voice…it was so faint and yet so loud. Makoto bit back a sob as he fell to his knees, his hands morphing into fists as he hit his grave.

“It’s not fair!” He shouts, voice thick with tears. The arms encase him in a loving manner, soothing him as if he were Mamoru.

Read and understand Makoto…

He tilts his head up, reading his stone grave marker through the tears.

Here marks the resting place of the Mounted Samurai: Tsugaru Mamoru

His death was recorded in March of 1185

Cause of death was of a stab wound to his shoulder, eventually he died of blood loss

His regiment was the first out and the first killed against the Minamoto clan.

The Genpei war ended just over this cliff, where the emperor and samurai threw themselves into the waves so they wouldn’t see the fall of their clan into the Minamoto hands.

After this war, the colors for the Japanese clan were established and the Taira clan is remembered throughout history.

Makoto gently picks up some flowers that were lying against his gravestone and look sadly over the cliff.

Squinting, he turns his head to look up the side of the mountain. “How would they have…”

Groaning, Makoto squats and holds his head in his hands, ignoring Haruo’s ghostly voice as one last memory flashes through his mind.

Panting, Mamoru jerks his horse’s hair hard, forcing the animal to stop. Holding an arm up, he squints as he slowly makes his way to the top of the closest ledge, swallowing as he glances down the side of the cliff.

He forces the warriors to wait as he quickly scans the mountainside, frowning as he sees no traces of the warriors from Minamoto.

Almost as if-

“It’s a trap!” He shouts, his horse rearing back in shock as he holds fast. A couple of warriors shout out a warning as he jerks his head back, eyes going wide as he sees the hidden warriors come out of their hiding places, swords gleaming as they jump down of the bushes on the side of the mountain.

Haruo…I’m sorry…

_____________________________________________________________________________

He kisses his sister on the forehead before stepping out of his shop, nodding to the other fishermen as they turn to make their way to the harbor, where their boat is waiting.

Haruo rubs his neck, hiding the bite Mamoru had given him a couple of days before.

“Marking my property.” He had said with a grin, eyes sad as he takes in Haruo’s lustful state.

“One last time before I go…”

He waits until the elder fishermen had gotten in before he steps on the boat as well, holding a hand out for the next fisher.

They all shift around silently, ignoring the war ships that pass them. He clenches his jaw, staring stonily at the ship.

“I wish this damned war was over soon.” An elder snarls, throwing his net out as he sits back, sighing.

The fishermen grumble or hum in agreement and he stares out at the horizon where Mamoru would be heading at the moment. He mutters a prayer to the gods as he throws his own net out.

“I think a storm is coming.” Another fisher frowns as he glances up at the sky.

Perhaps it can wash away my sorrow…

_____________________________________________________________________________

He leans against his bed, eyes closed as memories race through his mind. His fingers stroke the soft petals on the roses that were on his grave, wondering who put them there.

“What are you thinking?” A soft, silky voice whispers close to him.

He jumps, eyes snapping open as he jerks around to find himself face to face with a pale man.

Makoto swallows as he takes in the rest of the male before him. Under the robes all merchants wore in the 12th century, a transparent fish tail peaks out from the edges. The man has coal black hair, a small smirk curls his pale lips as he watches Makoto.

He finally meets the man’s gaze, gasping when the familiar sea blue clicks with him.

“Haruo…it’s you…” He whispers, slowly moving closer to the ghost. Haruo flips his tail and leans forwards, kissing him softly.

Makoto jumps, breathing out against his ghostly lips before pulling back. “How…why?” He breathes out, stroking his cheek lovingly.

Haruo smiles and leans into his touch. “I’ve always been here…Haru-chan remember?”

Makoto laughs, running his hand down Haruo’s silky robes, just as soft as he remembered.

“I’ve followed your family throughout the years, protected them after I got my revenge.” Haruo explains once they had gotten comfortable on Makoto’s bed. Haruo curls closer to him, fin resting on his leg.

“Your sister committed suicide a year after you had been killed and your brother married and had five children. Only one boy survived and carried on your family line.”

Makoto bows his head, nodding as he stares at Haruo’s bare chest. “Wait…your revenge?”

Haruo nods, running his fingers through Makoto’s hair. “We could have been saved by a Minamoto ship but once they saw that we were Taira…they didn’t help.”

He frowns, placing a kiss on Haruo’s forehead. “That’s terrible…”

“I got my revenge though…sank their ship where no one could ever find them…and they have in fact found our ship…perhaps I’ll get a proper burial and move on…” Haruo sighs, burrowing into his side.

“Haruo…will you be with Mamoru again then?” His voice is hushed.

“Hopefully.” Haruo smiles, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

“Well then I’m glad.” Makoto smiles back. “Speaking for Mamoru on his behalf…I love you Haruo…always have and always will.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> A Free! story that was just on a whim. I hope you enjoyed it. I plan to make a prequel about Haruo and Mamoru's life...hopefully out soon.


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